


Kindness in Women

by Ultra



Category: Mansfield Park - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: Mr Henry Crawford had always chosen the most beautiful women to entangle himself with. When hoping to make a more permanent attachment, perhaps he ought to focus rather more on kindness.
Relationships: Henry Crawford/Fanny Price
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Kindness in Women

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunsetmog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/gifts).



_‘Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, shall win my love.’_  
_\- William Shakespeare (Hortensio, Taming of the Shrew)_

“I like your Miss Bertrams exceedingly, sister,” said Mr Crawford, as he returned from attending them to their carriage after dinner. “They are very elegant, agreeable girls.”

“So they are indeed, and I am delighted to hear you say it,” his sister told him with a smile, “but you like Julia best.”

“Oh, yes, I like Julia best,” he confirmed, knowing that he was expected to do so.

It may not of course be his true feelings on the subject, something Mary ought to have known and would doubtless question him on within moments. She did not disappoint.

“But do you really?” she asked, searching his face for better truth than she had already heard. “For Miss Bertram is in general thought the handsomest.”

“So I should suppose,” Mr Crawford agreed easily.

Though he went on to express every advantage of Miss Bertram and her sister, Julia, both in looks and manners, he would have to confess in the fullness of time that his mind was indeed wandering far beyond their particular charms. If dear Mary supposed it, she did not say as much, at least, not in the beginning of their conversation. He ought to have known, perhaps, that she would not be left in the dark for long.

“I do believe, dear brother, you are forming some design in your mind, something almost wicked, though I should urge you most strongly against such a venture here,” she said with a look of warning and a tone to match it. 

Something of a smirk began to form around his lips and Mr Crawford took pains to control such an expression. His intentions may indeed appear dishonourable in the wearing of a seemingly devious smile, though in truth, nothing could be further from his thoughts. He only took delight in the confusion he knew he might yet cause his dear sister in the telling of it.

“Since you are not to be fooled, Mary, I shall tell you just exactly what I am thinking, but I beg you would take my words as they are intended and in no other way.”

The expression upon her own face then was certainly one to see, caught as it were between confusion and concern. A small shake of the head was all the reply he received as he took the seat beside her and explained all.

“Though I am quite aware of the very great reasons that you would urge me in Miss Julia’s direction, and I am sure you can just as easily understand why Miss Bertram presents quite the attraction as well as a challenge, I have another in mind for my latest pursuit,” he said with a smile. “It is my fondest wish, I find, to make Fanny Price in love with me.”

Such a burst of laughter came forth from Mary’s lips as to have her appear quite unladylike, and yet with no company but each other present it was of little matter. To be sure, it was all the reaction Mr Crawford had been expecting from her after such a declaration, that and the words that swiftly followed.

“Fanny Price! Nonsense! No, no, you are teasing me, Henry.”

“Indeed, I am not. I would not,” he insisted, certain he must look the picture of honesty, for he spoke with as plainer words and pure as an intention as any man ever had in such a moment. “You do not seem properly aware of her claims to notice. Undoubtedly, she is a quiet, modest, even plain-looking girl, yet I do see something pretty in her somehow. There is a softness in that skin of hers, so frequently tinged with a blush. There is decided beauty, and from what I observed of her eyes and mouth, I do not despair of their being capable of expression enough when she has anything to express. And then, her air, her manner, her tout ensemble, is so indescribably... different to her cousins, to any woman I have ever had the good fortune to have in my acquaintance.

“Still, in truth, I do not quite know what to make of Miss Fanny. I do not understand her. What is her character? Is she solemn? Is she queer? Is she prudish? I could hardly get her to speak. I never was so long in company with a girl in my life, trying to entertain her, and succeed so ill! Never met with a girl who looked so grave on me! I only know I must try to get the better of this. Her looks almost say, ‘I will not like you,’ and I say she shall.”

Though Mary called him a foolish fellow, which was exactly as he might have predicted from her, Mr Crawford was in no way deterred. Certainly, he would be expected to try for Julia by those in their acquaintance, and perhaps even her own family at Mansfield. On his sister’s part, Mary must know him well enough to realise he may find attraction in the engaged Miss Bertram, but no, not on this occasion. A new challenge was in order, a different kind of game was afoot. Mr Crawford would woo Miss Fanny Price, with a view to them both being the better off for it in the end.

* * *

She did not know quite what to make of Mr Crawford. In her own admission to herself, Fanny must own that she was not used to the company of gentlemen in any great number. Her cousins, Tom and Edmund, and her Uncle Bertram were as dear to her as any could be, but they were her family. The kind of affection she held for them differed greatly, she supposed, from what one ought to feel when being courted. With no experience of such things to draw upon, and sure she should never dare to raise such topics with either of her aunts or Maria and Julia, Fanny was only left to wonder at the strange impression Mr Crawford was making upon her.

It had been spoken of in the beginning that he would ‘quite do for Julia’, as Aunt Norris had put it. Since Maria was to be married to Mr Rushworth, just as soon as her father returned home, Fanny saw this as quite the proper thing. She had never once suspected that any gentleman visitor might turn his attentions to herself.

In the first place, she had been quite reticent in responding to Mr Crawford’s attentions, sure that he meant them only in the way of including her in conversations she might otherwise have only observed in silence. It was only when he seemed eager to continue his pursuit of her away from general company that she began to suspect his intentions tended towards romance.

Even then, Fanny quite convinced herself she was mistaken, for it was Maria and Julia who were beauty and grace themselves, daughters of a gentlemen and revered by all that knew them. Fanny was only her dear aunt’s companion and barely a part of the family at all. Such she expressed, quite without meaning too, when once again Mr Crawford sought her out amongst all others in a gathering at Mansfield, choosing to very particularly sit beside her and try to make conversation, even as she gave all of her attention to her embroidery.

“You will excuse me, sir. I am sure you could find better company here, if you should care to try. My cousin, Julia, perhaps, who would surely welcome your companionship at the piano forte, or indeed, the other gentlemen might entertain you with stories of hunting or business?”

“You are so very certain that you are poorer company than these, Miss Price?” he asked her, seemingly in complete awe of her somehow, though she could only wonder as to why. “Have I made it less than plain to you that it is only your company that I crave?”

With eyes wide with surprise did she look upon him in that moment, sure she would find the truth in his face as she searched it for dishonesty then, and yet found none. In his presumed affections, he seemed most earnest. In his devotion to her, most sincere.

“Do I astonish you?” he asked, watching her as closely as she had observed him but moments before. “Indeed, Miss Price, I would wish you to understand that what I tell you is all in truth. My affections are steady. I had hoped that my conduct spoke for me, but had it not before this, let it do so clearly from this moment. Allow me only to prove that, as far as you can be deserved by anybody, I do deserve you.

“You are infinitely my superior in merit, all that I know. You have qualities which I had not before supposed to exist in such a degree in any human creature. You have some touches of the angel in you beyond what - not merely beyond what one sees, because one never sees anything like it - but beyond what one fancies might be, but still I am not frightened. It is not by equality of merit that you can be won. That is out of the question. It is he who sees and worships your merit the strongest, who loves you most devotedly, that has the best right to a return. There I build my confidence. By that right I do and will deserve you, and when once convinced that my attachment is what I declare it, I know you too well not to entertain the warmest hopes. Yes, dearest, sweetest Fanny.”

At the use of her Christian name, she was aware she ought to withdraw, displeased to be addressed so familiar, and yet, had he gone so far as even to have taken her hand in such a moment, Fanny might even have allowed it. She was so very astonished by his declaration, and yet, so entirely warmed in her heart and through her entire self by his doubtlessly true confession.

“Forgive me,” he said in any case. “Perhaps I have as yet no right, but by what other name can I call you? Do you suppose you are ever present to my imagination under any other? No, it is ‘Fanny’ that I think of all day, and dream of all night. You have given the name such reality of sweetness, that nothing else can now be descriptive of you.”

To such things, Fanny had no notion how she was to react, and with such a gathering of persons about them too, all she might do was sit and stare at Mr Crawford in some bafflement yet. To think that he had chosen her above all others, it ought to alarm her as much as flatter her, she supposed, but were she truthful in her own mind, she knew she might one day allow Mr Crawford to make a home in her heart. Perhaps, on reflection, she considered, as the tea and cakes were brought into the room and the company were obliged to break from their smaller groups, perhaps indeed she had already begun to make him a place there. Only time would tell.

* * *

It was outside of the very room in which Miss Price waited that Mr Crawford quite made the decision to ask for her hand before imparting the news of her brother’s good fortune. Indeed, he was quite aware of what great thanks he might receive for his part in ensuring the Admiral had William made up, but in fact, Mr Crawford had learnt, these past few weeks and months together, that these were not the ways to secure the heart of one such as Fanny.

She was, without question, entirely in difference to every other woman that had ever caught his eye. A challenge, certainly, and one that Mr Crawford might have made sport of at one time. There was something about Mansfield, about Fanny in particular, the enigmatic and angelic Miss Price. He was quite altered, and yet just as determined to win his prize as he ever had been before.

Never once had Mr Crawford been truly moved to propose marriage, but now, on this very day, in this very moment, he was sure. As he had told Mary before leaving the parsonage and coming directly to Mansfield Park itself, he was quite determined to marry Fanny Price.

She was to be found in the breakfast room, just now left alone, almost as if by design, as Lady Bertram departed, though it was unlikely the lady knew exactly what she did by giving Mr Crawford this chance.

“I must acknowledge myself infinitely obliged to any creature who gives me such an opportunity of seeing you alone. I have been wishing it more than you can have any idea,” he told her in earnest, taking a seat at the table beside his dearest Fanny.

She seemed incapable of speaking, but he did not want her to speak. To see the expression of her eyes, the change of her complexion, the progress of her feelings, their doubt, confusion, and felicity, was enough.

“Miss Price, I do not think you can be in any doubt of my reasons for calling, for wishing most particularly to speak with you alone,” he said, watching her closely, smiling when she turned her face away, the familiar blush rising in her cheeks. “Yes, you well understand me, I think. Have I not made myself plain enough in our previous meetings, our conversations, the night of your ball when I was so fortunate as to have the pleasure of escorting you?”

With her pretty face once again turned toward him, a gentle smile playing about her lips as she nodded her understanding of all he had said, Mr Crawford became more and more certain of his proposal only being met with joy and acceptance.

“Miss Price... dearest Fanny, I entreat you,” he implored her, reaching for her hand and clasping in gently, “if you can believe all that I have told you, if you truly credit the feelings I have spoken of, and I hope I have proven to you through consistency and devotion, shall you perhaps make me the happiest of men and consent to an attachment? I offer you all,” he told her openly, arms spread wide now as he presented himself for her inspection as well as approval and assent. “All that I am, all that I have, it is entirely at your disposal. Only grant me a piece of your good heart, Miss Price. Allow me only that, and I shall provide everything, I shall be everything you might ever wish for.”

On Fanny’s part, she was more than overwhelmed to hear him speak so. He did not astonish her now as he once had with the possible strength of his feeling, nor even with his proposal that she had suspected may one day come to pass. Perhaps it was only that she was still a little reluctant to believe such a thing to be true. That a gentleman such as Mr Crawford, with all the fine choices laid before him, might choose her, and yet, she could not doubt him.

All that he said was true, all his gentle attentions and good intentions too. As he sat by her now, offering himself, hand, fortune, everything, to her acceptance, she could give only one answer.

“Indeed, Mr Crawford. For your attentions and compliments, I... I am truly grateful and of course, I am not at all in ignorance to your feelings. I would speak of my own if I could aptly describe, but I fear... I fear I have not the words to do them justice. I believe that all I may say is that if you wish me for your wife, sir, nothing would give me more pleasure.”

The confession of it came almost as much of a pleasant surprise to Fanny herself as it seemed to Mr Crawford. With much joy and rapture did he once again clasp her hand and place a kiss upon it, promising her in no uncertain terms of his devotion for as long as he should live.

“You shall never know the happiness you have granted me, Fanny,” he said with such an admiration in her eyes as she had never thought to see placed in her direction before. “I can only vow to ensure your own happiness by way of my own unwavering devotion from this day forward, and this task I begin now, with these letters.”

In presentation of the very papers he spoke of, Fanny did indeed find much joy, for dear brother William was made a Second Lieutenant of H.M. Sloop Thrush. Such happiness this would bring to her family and by Mr Crawford’s hand. Now, again, he brought great joy and great fortune to them all by offering Fanny his hand in marriage.

“Oh, how shall I bear it all?” The words were spoken quite unwittingly, a blush rising in Fanny’s cheeks at the realisation Mr Crawford had heard all. “To live with such unbridled joy,” she explained, laughing for she could scarce do otherwise. “I shall not know how to live each day in such a state.”

“I believe we shall learn together,” her intended ensured her with the most beautiful, affectionate smile Fanny had ever seen in all her born days.

“Why, yes, Mr Crawford,” she agreed without pause. “I do believe you are right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue and prose taken directly from Jane Austen's _Mansfield Park_.


End file.
